Allan COLE - Wizard of the winds

Although Iraj had greeted him warmlyas if only a few months rather than years had separated themSafar didn't let down his guard. His old friend had the same easy, open manner. Other than the beard he looked much the same as before. His manner was casually royal, but it had always been so. He'd also matured. With the beard, which Safar suspected Iraj had grown to look older, he appeared to be in his thirtieth summer, rather than in his early 20's like Safar. He still had that cunning look in his eyes, a cunning he'd had develop at an early age to survive family wars. But Safar could see there was no malice, no cruelty.

Somehow Iraj had drawn on the mantle of a conqueror, had been the cause of much bloodshed, yet seemed untouched by it.

It made Safar, who was wary and secretive at heart, warier still.

Iraj still had the look of a great dreamer. There was an innocence about himthe innocence of all dreamers. That was what confounded Safar the most. How could Iraj appear so innocent, yet move through scenes of such awful crueltywhich he'd orderedwith his innocence intact?

He glanced at Iraj, once again noting his remarkable resemblance to Alisarrian.

For the first time Safar truly understood the enigma Gubadan had unknowingly posed when he'd asked his favorite rhetorical question: Who was this man, Alisarrian? A monster as his enemies claimed? Or a blessing from the gods?"

Safar wondered if he'd ever learn the answer.

He put confusion aside. His first duty was to Methydia and his friends. After that he'd try his best to keep his promise to Methydia and see what he could do to ease the suffering of the people of Sampitay.

Beyond those two immediate goals was a chasm, deep and wide. Fate seemed to be driving him toward the brink of that chasm.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

After Safar had bathed, changed into fresh clothes and heard a promising first report regarding Methydia's health, he was summoned to Iraj's private quarters.

Other than its size and placement, there was nothing to mark Iraj's tent as the dwelling place of a king. It sat in the center of scores of similar tents, all made of a plain, sturdy material. The hillside encampment was a bustle of uniformed officers and clerks and scribes in drab civilian garb. Safar later learned Iraj conducted all of his business from tents like thesea kind of traveling court, moving from one battlefield to the next. Iraj ruled a vast new kingdomranging from The God's Divide to the most distant wildernesswhile on the road.

The furnishings in Iraj's tent palace were spare and utilitarian. Chests were used as tables, saddles were mounted on posts to make chairs. A plain portable thronewith Iraj's banner hanging over itsat on a raised platform against the far wall. When Safar entered the throne was empty. The two aides assigned to him ushered him past officers and sergeants who were bent over maps, or absorbed in reports.

Heavy curtains blocked off one large section of the tent and as Safar approached he caught the scent of perfume. Surprised as he was by this oddity in a place of such military bearing, he was even more amazed when the curtain parted and two young women dressed like soldiers stepped out. Although they were both remarkably beautiful, they had eyes as fierce as the weapons belted about their slender waists.

Without a word they searched him for weapons. It was an odd sensation being handled so intimately by such beauteous, deadly women.

When they were satisfied they escorted him into the room. In the center, wine cup in hand and lolling on soft pillows, was Irajsurrounded by a dozen other women warriors.

"Safar, he called out, come join me. It's been a long time since we've had a drink together."

He clapped his hands and women rushed about to fetch food and drink while others plumped up pillows to make Safar comfortable.

It was all very bizarre being waited on by these mailed, perfumed handmaids and Iraj chortled at Safar's bewildered expression.

"What do you think of my royal guard? he asked.

Safar shook his head. I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to fight them or make love to them, he joked.

"I've often wondered that myself, Iraj said, smiling. Sometimes we do both just to keep the nights interesting."

The women laughed at the king's jest and their eyes and actions were so adoring there was no mistaking their pleasure was genuine.

"You of all people know my weakness for women, Iraj said.

Safar grinned. Very well."

"Then you will admire my military solution to that weakness, Iraj said. Instead of a baggage train of courtesans and their belongings to slow me down, I've hand-picked a platoon of beautiful women to make up my royal guard. They are all highly-skilled fightersI saw to their training myself, and let me tell you there is not an assassin in existence who could get by them. And they are marvelous bedmates as wellalso due to my personal training."

Safar laughed. It's a hard job being king, he said. But I suppose someone has to do it. He toasted Iraj with the goblet that had been thrust into his hand. Here's to royal sacrifice."

Iraj roared enjoyment at this. He banged his goblet against Safar'swine sloshing over the brimthen drained what remained in the cup.

He pulled one of the women onto his lap, nuzzling her. Tell me, Leiria, he said to the woman, what do you think of my friend, Safar? Isn't he all that I described?"

Leiria gave Safar a sloe-eyed look, guaranteed to light a fire in any manany man but Safar, that is, whose complete attention was fixed on the situation.

"And more, Majesty, Leiria answered, smoldering gaze still fixed on Safar. Except you didn't say he was so handsome. And his eyes! I've never seen a man with blue eyes before. It's like looking into the sky."

Iraj slapped her well-rounded haunch. What? he shouted, but it was a shout of pleasure, not anger. You lust for another?"

Leiria tangled her hand in king's golden beard. Maybe just a little bit, Majesty, she pouted. But only so I can learn more and return to you with greater pleasures."

Iraj kissed her, long and deep, then pulled away and looked at Safar, eyes filled with amusement.

"You see how it is, my brother? he said. It will always be a problem between us. The same women want us. What shall we do about it?"

Safar instantly felt he was walking on dangerous ground. Thankful as I am at the flattery, Majesty, he said, Leiria was only being kind, I'm sure."

"Nonsense, Iraj said. She wants you. Very well, you shall have her."

He untangled himself from Leiria and pushed her into Safar's lap. Leiria went willingly, cooing and snuggling and tracing patterns on his chest with her fingers. Safar shifted his positionher dagger was digging into his side.

"I only ask that you be kind to her, Iraj said. And send her back in good condition. She's known no man but me. He waved at the others. None of them have. I am not in the habit of making my women a gift to other men."

He smiled. In fact, it has only happened one time before. Do you remember when that was, Safar?'

Safar remembered very well indeed. Astarias, he said. How could I possibly forget?"

"And what was the oath we swore then? Iraj asked.

"That all I had was yours, Safar answered, and all that was yours was mine."

"Freely given and with no ill will, correct? Iraj pressed.

"Yes, Majesty, Safar said. Freely given. And with no ill will."

"Good, Iraj said. I'm glad you remember."

For reasons Safar couldn't determine, what had just occurred had been very important to Iraj.

"Another thing, Safar, Iraj said. When we're in private, don't call me majesty or your highness or other such silliness."

"That's certainly a relief, Safar laughed. The first time I said itwhen we were with your officersI kept thinking, this is the same fellow my mother scolded for tromping over her clean floors with muddy boots."